The Man Within

brain. He was caught, and deep beneath his superficial fear, he was thankful. The initiative had been taken out of his hands. He was being driven remorselessly along the right road, and it was no use to struggle any more. He glanced surreptitiously round him. Mr. Farne was reading and Sir Henry was deep in his papers, his long, white, unringed hands moving nervously in rhythm with his thoughts. The girl was dozing in her chair. He watched her with greedy interest. “What fun can she get out of that man?” he thought. “He thinks of nothing but his work. He can’t make her wriggle as I could.” For one moment he was perturbed by the thought of Elizabeth. She was more desirable and more lovely, but infinitely more distant. “It’s hopeless,” he thought. “What’s the use of thinking of her?” He could not believe that she was intended for any man and least of all for himself. Besides it was because of her that he found himself here and why should he not take the fun when he must needs take the risk? Here was someone who was not too good for him, formed of the same lustful body and despicable heart.

She opened her eyes and found him watching her. She smiled. “We must find you some clean clothes,” she said. “I’m sure Mr. Farne would lend you some of his. They are very sober of course. Mr. Farne is a churchgoer.” Mr. Farne jumped out of his chair and walked with little irritated steps towards the window, where he stood, his back turned to them, watching the High Street with a forced interest. “Mr. Farne and I have never been true friends,” she said, her small lips twisting at the corners with annoyance that there should be any man who did not desire her and contempt that Mr. Farne should be so lacking in what she considered manhood.

Sir Henry looked up from his papers. “Go to bed, Lucy,” he said with asperity.

She watched him mischievously. “And you?” she said.

“I am busy,” he said.

Her face was momentarily touched with a very faint tenderness. “You are not going to work again all night, Henry?” she asked. “You must get some sleep.”

He said, “I’m all right,” with a slight tone of astonishment, as though he were surprised at an unaccustomed anxiety. “Go along now. I’ve got a lot of work to do before tomorrow.”

She got up, but before she went to the door, paused for a moment at the table. “You are overworking,” she said.

He smiled. “It’s my career. Besides, I particularly want to win this case.”

“You’ll kill yourself sooner or later,” she said.

“O you needn’t be afraid,” he said drily and impatiently. “I’ll find you a new keeper first.”

She flushed and glanced at Andrews with an angry smile. “I can find one for myself at any time,” she replied.

“I should not advise you to choose Mr. Andrews,” Sir Henry said with an amused smile, as though he were watching an angry and ridiculous child. “Mr. Andrews lacks means.” She went out and slammed the door behind her.

Andrews was confused, but not this time with drink. He felt as if he had come suddenly out of a mysterious windswept silence into a place of hurried noise and movement and crowds. A temporary homesickness for the cottage and Elizabeth was banished by Lucy’s smile, which promised “fun.” If she intends to play me off against this man Merriman, he thought, I’m game. Drink no longer blurred his brain, but it had left a small restless feeling of desire and a strong belief in his own fascination. He longed to follow Lucy out of the room.

“Look here,” he said, “what do you want with me?”

Sir Henry looked up. “Are you sober now?” he asked.

“I was never drunk,” Andrews said angrily. “Only hungry.”

“Well, then, what I want is to see you in the witness box. I’m leading for the Crown. If you are not a witness you must see for yourself that there’s only one other place for you.”

“What use am I to you?” Andrews protested. “I’d gone before the fight began.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Sir Henry said. “All I want is your evidence that these men landed, that you were with them when they landed.”

“But the risk?” Andrews said.

“You should have thought of that when you sent the letter. But I’ll do my best for you. I’ll have you watched as long as you stay in Lewes. You can remain at this inn. I’ve had a room taken for you. Afterwards it’s your own lookout, but you’ll have the whole of England to drop into. You exaggerate the risk. I advise you, however, after this to give up smuggling.” He looked at Andrews curiously. “I can’t imagine why you ever started. You talk like an educated young man.”

“I can read Latin and Greek, if you call that education. I haven’t been taught how to live. What can I do when this is over?”

Sir Henry tapped the table impatiently with his fingers. “You are a lucky find for me,” he said. “There’s no cause to be grateful to you, but I’ll give you some introductions in London when this trial is over. You ought to be able to get a job as a clerk. But you had better act honestly in the future or you’ll end where I hope your companions will end.”

“Don’t prate to me,” Andrews cried, “about honesty. You are not risking your life in this trial as I am. You are paid for it.”

“Don’t be impertinent,” Mr. Farne returned from the window. “You are doing this to save your own skin, not for justice.”

“For neither, I think,” Andrews replied, his anger dispelled by the vision of Elizabeth raising his cup to her lips. But I can never return there, he thought. When this is over I must clear out. I don’t suppose I shall ever see her again. The thought was a sharp pain, which made him clench his hands and long